


The key to your past

by potterbite



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: 50 things you didn't know about Killian Jones, F/M, Liam only there in words, semi future fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 16:55:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7181264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potterbite/pseuds/potterbite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Also titled "50 things you didn't know about Killian Jones".) Once upon a time, in another life, Liam Jones filled paper after paper with small things the future love of his brother Killian should know about, well, Killian. Killian gives this to Emma.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The key to your past

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I wrote almost a year ago and posted it on tumblr and ff.net. I only just now realised it never went up here. A personal favorite of mine.  
> (PS. This idea is entirely stolen from the wonderful Sterek fic "Derek Hale's possible heart" by Mellythehun here at AO3.)
> 
> I might also add that I do wish this would be longer. A lot longer, actually. I've been thinking about it very much recently, to be honest. The plan is to expand it, hopefully within a month or two. Fingers crossed! If (when!) this happens, it will be posted as a new story and this will stay put as it is. Cheers, lovelies!

**20.**  As a young boy, Killian enjoyed wearing our mother’s things. The time I walked in on him prancing around in a corset ofhers, an enormous grin on his face, is a moment I’ll forever cherish. 

Emma frowns at the notebook in her hand, not quite understanding at first the words neatly scribbled on the yellowed paper. She flips back to the first page again, reading the title over and over until a ball of guilt has formed in the pit of her stomach; she really shouldn’t be reading this.

_To Whom It May Concern, if my brother, Killian Jones, ever finds someone he loves more than his own reflection - A very accurate and telling list by Liam Jones._

She can’t remember ever having seen the book before and wonders where Killian has kept it all this time - where he has been hiding it since he came to town. She’s curious - so much her fingers are already flipping the corner of the following page back and forth - but it feels like an invasion of his privacy, even if he has given her the permission to read it.

At least she’s pretty sure it was permission. He had knocked on her door that morning, scratching himself behind his ear as she wondered what he was doing there so early, and had handed her the notebook. He’d said something, too, that Emma hadn’t quite caught; she just heard the words Liam and love before he turned and fled down the stairs in the blink of an eye.

Now, more than two hours later, she still hasn’t peeked at more than one page. Okay, two counting the title, but she can’t count that as well, because she’s already guilty enough as it is.

Sighing, she takes the book with her up to her bedroom and puts it safely in one of the drawers in her nightstand before heading for a shower in the hopes that it’ll take her mind off of it. 

(It doesn’t.)

When she comes back out, she can practically hear it screaming her name, desperate to be read, so she’s helpless (or so she tells herself) to do anything but take it out and plop down in the chair right by her bed.

She’s not sure if she’s supposed to read it cover to cover, so she just opens up a random page, the outer cover creaking slightly, revealing that Killian probably hasn’t read this before. 

**34.**  If he ever tells you he needs to be left alone when he’s obviously sad (see no. 15), do not obey. Hug him instead.

**35.** Oh, and if he says he wants to be left alone when he’s mad; flee. I’ve been the target of that annoyance, and even though it might seem fun, it’s not really. (He told Gertrude Binchstock, the barmaid in our hometown with a beard and a girdle, that I was in love with her after I had done absolutely  _nothing_  wrong, except maybe refusing to leave him alone and teasing him some about his love for that ridiculous ponytail he wears. Gertrude asked me to marry her after that. Arianna, my wife, did not approve.)

Emma laughs, knowing exactly what kind of a mood Liam writes about, trying to picture what Gertrude might’ve looked like, or Liam for that matter. Frowning, then, at the thought of the brother she’s never met (dead long before she was born) talking to her as if they are old friend, she flips back to number fifteen to see what it says. 

**15.**  Killian does not do well with being hurt. He keeps it inside until he’s about to burst, at which point it comes out as rage. When he can’t meet your gaze, or when he frowns excessively, he’s really just sad. Do not let him go. 

She sighs, recognizing the signs Liam is telling her about, having seen them that very morning when he dropped off the notebook. Almost as if in between really wanting her to have it, he’s also terrified she’ll turn away from him.

(She understands all too well.)

Flipping aimlessly through the book, she smiles to herself every now and then when there’s something she has discovered on her own, but it’s still nice to know that Killian, despite losing everyone and turning to piracy for hundreds of years, still is the same man deep down.

( **8.**  He scratches himself behind his ear when he’s nervous or insecure.)

Sunken deep in the pages written so long ago, she barely registers when her parents come home until David knocks on the doorframe to her bedroom.

“Hey,” he says.

Blinking, she looks up. “Hey. I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Obviously,” he replies, nodding at the book in her hand. “We saw Killian at Granny’s.”

“Oh. Why didn’t he come with you guys here?”

“He seemed nervous when we just brought up your name, so we didn’t really ask.”

“Oh,” she repeats dumbly. Her father stands there for a few more seconds, and then leaves with a comment about dinner that barely registers with Emma, her gaze already on its way down to the frayed pages lying in her lap.

**42.**  He loves children. When he was nine, he was convinced he would have a gigantic family; he would not settle for anything less than seven children. As we grew older, the number decreased. Now, as we sail the seas together, he says he’d be happy with one. 

**43.** He took it hard when out mother died. Speak to him about her, please. Tell him it is okay to miss and grieve as long as he doesn’t dwell in it with pain and guilt. Tell him he can cry. Tell him I said she loved him deeply, just in case I’m not there to tell him myself. 

A lump in her throat, Emma looks up at nothing in particular. It’s almost as if Liam knew he wouldn’t be around. It’s eerie. 

And kids. Wow. Killian has never really spoken to her about it, and she hasn’t brought it up - and anyway, when would they have the time to talk about it, let alone raise one, with a new villain popping into town every other week?

She misses the call for dinner, her mind being in an entirely different place and time, so Mary Margaret brings some of it up on a plate. Emma thanks her mother absentmindedly, her eyes soaking in all the things she never knew about Killian.

**1.** Killian can be a pain in the arse. If (when) he is, call him Madame Turqoise. It was what he demanded we’d call him at the mature age of 5 and he is embarrassed at just the thought of it. 

Laughing at this, she isn’t aware of his presence in her bedroom until he nudges her quietly with his foot. Startled, she raises her gaze to find him sitting opposite her, on her bed, eyes filled with so much worry and fear that it goes straight to her heart, like a sharp sting. 

“Hi,” she says, closing the notebook and clutching it close to her chest. 

“Hello.”

“Where’ve you been?”

He shrugs, the sound of leather creaking slightly filling the quiet. “Thinking. Walking.” His stomach rumbles then, and Emma grins.

“Not eating, though.”

“Aye, I lost myself in time.”

She gets up from the chair and offers a hand to him. “Come on. I think there’s still some dinner left in the kitchen.”

He looks at her hand for a few moments, as if unsure if he should take it or not, a frown deepening on his forehead. 

_Do not let him go_ , she remembers Liam’s words, so she reaches for his hand despite him not extending it and takes it in a firm hold, making sure he stands up to follow her down the stairs. 

She re-heats some pasta in silence, feeling his eyes on her back the entire time. Once it’s done, she sets the plate in front of him, but stops him just as he’s about to dig in.

“Killian.” She makes him meet her gaze. “You do know I love you, right?”

A shaky breath escapes him then, and she sees the worry being replaced by something else. _Hope._

“And I you,” he replies in nothing more than a whisper.  

Stepping into his personal space, she puts both hands on either side of his face. “And so did your brother and your mother.”

A flicker of guilt passes over his face, but all she sees is the man in front of her, just as broken as she is, and equally afraid, his eyes still on hers even as she closes the small distance between them to kiss him. It’s natural, by this point, almost as easy as breathing, still managing to make her heart skip a beat as he drags her in impossibly closer with his hook on her lower back, his fingers somewhere in her hair. 

She doesn’t let go until she’s sure he understands that she _does_ love him and that she’s not leaving, slowly pulling away from him to see her own feelings reflected in his eyes. 

By then, the pasta is cold again. Not that either of them cares. Killian makes some comment about decent cooks being hard to find in this realm, grinning, so Emma gets the pleasure of seeing his face go red when she calls him Madame Turqoise. 

( **50.**  Love him the best way you can. If he has given you this book, it means he loves you more than he does all other things in life; more than the sea, or the moon on a starlight night (which he adores. If you can, please take him outside on such nights, and I promise you will not regret it). He loves you like I love my wife; with all his heart, with every beat of it, with the tips of his fingers and the ends of his toes. So please, love him the best way possible. He’s worth it.)

  



End file.
